


soft as satin, smooth as silk

by aunt_zelda



Series: Molly Lives AU: The Pirate Arc [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Corsetry, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dress Up, F/M, Fantasizing, Genital Piercing, Lingerie, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Underwear Kink, Women's Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: (AU where Molly's still alive.)Fjord opens up the small chest hoping for gold, or maps, or some food that isn’t the bland tasteless mush Caduceus has been summoning to keep them sustained until they reach the island.Instead he finds Avantika’s undergarments.





	soft as satin, smooth as silk

**Author's Note:**

> So a while back I wrote a fic for a friend. I had some ideas for a sequel, got to writing ... and then several months went by. So sorry for the delay, but I hope the wait was worth it!
> 
> I just wanted to write Fjord and Molly prettying each other up a bit.
> 
> Thank you batyatoon for the help with the ending!

The bedding still smells like her. He’s tempted to throw it overboard, mattress and all, and he might, but … not quite yet. It’s a long voyage and there’s every chance the mattress might start to smell of him instead of her after enough nights. 

Beau took one of the coats – sleeveless already and perfect for her style. Fjord’s seen her preening on deck for Yasha, hopeful and so far unacknowledged. She’s utterly oblivious to the admiring gaze of Jester. 

That’s all that’s been taken of Avantika’s clothes. 

Fjord opens up the small chest hoping for gold, or maps, or some food that isn’t the bland tasteless mush Caduceus has been summoning to keep them sustained until they reach the island. 

Instead he finds Avantika’s undergarments. 

He quickly realizes that these aren’t for daily wear. They’re too delicate, too ornamental, to be practical for that. There’s lace and ribbons and a rainbow of colors. Some items are smooth and expensive feeling. Fjord’s never touched silk before but he’s heard of it and this seems to match the stories. How could cloth feel so fine?

Fjord holds up one of the items against his cheek, a red slip of a thing, feeling the drag of the cloth over his skin. It feels good. It feels wealthy. It makes him wonder what it would feel like on more intimate areas.

With a jolt, Fjord drops the scrap of cloth and slams the chest shut. He shoves it under her bed and leaves the cabin. 

~*~

There isn’t much to do on the ship. Jester and Caduceus are using their spells to make the ship move a little faster. The crew is doing what they were paid for. Nott is busy belowdecks cackling over the gunpowder. Caleb is fretting over books and snapping at anyone who makes a noise and disturbs his studies. Beau is preening for Yasha and climbing the rigging. Yasha is staring at the distant clouds. Molly has become Caduceus’ assistant cook after Yasha told them all Molly used to help prepare meals at the circus.

Fjord avoid Avantika’s cabin unless it’s his time for sleeping. He tosses and turns on her bed, which still smells of her. He ignores the chest hidden beneath, until a stray wave rocks the ship and slides the chest out into the middle of the floor. 

He opens it up again. The undergarments are there, tempting him and taunting him in equal measure. He reaches inside and feels the impossibly soft fabrics. 

It’s not as though she’ll be coming back. It’s not as though these belong to anyone else. They’re his by right of piracy in a roundabout way. 

Fjord plucks out a random piece and lifts up his shirt. The cloth feels incredible sliding down over his belly. He leans back, tracing it across his skin, and closes his eyes. 

He can imagine Avantika straddling him, wearing this and nothing else. There’d be a damp spot on the fabric, making him smell like her with every motion. Maybe she wouldn’t take it off, not yet at least. Maybe she’d make him earn that, beg for it, mouth at her through the fabric and if he dared tear through she’d whip him …

Fjord stops, the fabric halfway to his mouth. He gulps and puts the garment back in the chest. 

He doesn’t hide the chest under the bed again. He leaves it out, closed but close at hand. 

~*~

Fjord takes off his shirt. 

The climate is hot enough that some of the crew work shirtless on deck, to the admiration of Jester and Molly. It cools off a bit in the evenings but not significantly. 

Fjord wraps one of the lacy corsets around his torso. It’s a tight fit, but Avantika was quite endowed and Fjord has always been slender, so it works. He’s never before been grateful for how he looks, always teased no matter where he went, but here in the cabin it finally grants him an advantage. 

He can’t figure out how to make the corset fit. There are laces and latches and he’s seen them before on women in drawings and in the windows of certain dockside establishments, but he can’t figure out how to fasten it properly. Perhaps the key is to have a friend assist. Fjord’s mind skitters to a halt as he imagines the evening women he’d seen at the docks, helping each other into these kinds of garments. Kissing each other’s thighs, stroking each other’s arms, cinching and pressing and preening. How could they focus on their jobs? Or are these fine fabrics merely uniforms like any other, routine and bland after repetitive use? Fjord frantically hopes that they never lose their luster. 

Lost in thought, Fjord doesn’t hear the creak of the door opening. 

He does hear the soft gasp of delight from the doorway. 

Fjord whirls around, hands going up to cover his chest, though he lacks the parts that would require such a motion. 

Molly stands on the threshhold. His eyes are alight and his mouth is agape. 

“It’s not … I’m …” Fjord stutters, color rising to his cheeks. “Close the door!” he snaps, some of his Captain authority returning. 

Molly does as he’s told, though he enters the cabin, which was not what Fjord had intended by the command. 

They stare at each other for a long moment. Fjord opens his mouth and shuts it, unable to think of what to say. Should he beg Molly to forget? Plead?

“Would you like some help, Captain?” Molly asks, gesturing to the tangle of laces.

Fjord blinks. “I … well …” he clears his throat. “I can’t … I just can’t seem to make it right.” 

Molly nods. “They’re a devil to handle on your own. Not exactly designed for single-use, in my opinion.” He holds out his hands. “May I, Captain?”

“… yes. Please.” 

Molly approaches slowly and moves carefully. He pulls on laces and fixes latches. He unravels one side completely with a soft dismissive noise and reworks it. The topmost latches won’t fasten, Fjord is too broad of chest, but in the end the garment is snug and secure. 

Fjord traces his hands over the fabric and his own skin. “You must think I look foolish,” he braces himself for the inevitable teasing. 

“Not at all.” Molly’s voice is heavy. “I think you look … ravishing.”

Fjord raises his head. Molly doesn’t have the usual joking expression on his face. He looks almost hungry with desire. An idea strikes him. 

“There’s plenty in the chest if you’d like to try something on.” Fjord’s mouth is dry but his voice is steady. 

Molly blushes and hurriedly ducks down for the chest. He fishes through the fabrics, comparing them against his skin and testing the textures. A teal set that nearly matches the peacock tattoo curling up his neck is held aloft. 

Fjord’s breath catches. 

Molly sets them aside. Fjord makes a soft noise of disappointment. 

Molly meets his eye and picks them up again. “These?” 

Mouth dry, Fjord nods. 

“These.” Molly shucks his clothes with the ease of a man used to changing backstage before a show, or an experienced sailor. Fjord has yet to reach that level of comfort. He averts his eyes. They’ve seen each other naked before, several times, even in this cabin not too long ago, but this feels different. 

“Lace me up?” Molly suggests, looking over his shoulder at Fjord. The teal corset is snug around his torso already but the laces are a mess. 

“I don’t … know how.” 

“I can teach you.” Molly promises. 

Fjord approaches with hands he struggles to keep steady. 

And then Molly’s hands are on Fjord’s hands, pressing them against the corset and his skin. Molly’s skin is warm, warmer than any other person Fjord’s touched before. It startles him every time, being reminded that tieflings tend to run hotter than most. 

Gently, Molly guides Fjord’s fingers. It’s not so different from sailor knots, just smaller, and with more delicate cords. Fjord cinches Molly into the corset and ties off the loose ends. 

He steps back and Molly spins around. Fjord is looking at Molly and Molly is looking at him. 

“Would you like to do something?” Molly asks.

“I’m not rightly sure.” Fjord shifts from foot to foot. “Feels like I’m supposed to.”

Molly shakes his head. “You should only do what you actually want to do. Not what you think you _should_ do.”

The words almost sting, in this room, in this context. Fjord did things with Avantika out of obligation, fear, assumption that it was expected. He’d enjoyed some of it, more of it than he’d thought he would. But still, it hadn’t been entirely what he’d wanted to do. 

“I’d like to touch you, if that’s alright.” Fjord says. 

Molly spreads his arms. “Touch all you want.”

Fjord is careful, caressing over the tattoos and old scars, tracing his fingers along the lines of silk on skin. He wonders if Molly expects him to act the rough orc, rip and bruise and grasp. Fjord leans over and presses a kiss to Molly’s neck, tilts and nuzzles against his hair. “You can touch me too, if you like.”

Molly’s hands circle around to Fjord’s back, raking down along the corset lacings and down over bare skin, finally resting to grab at Fjord’s ass. 

Fjord jolts a bit in surprise, but it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Far from it. He shifts and looks at Molly eye to eye. “Can I kiss you?” 

Molly darts forward and eagerly starts the kiss himself. Fjord goes slower, smiling as he feels the forked tongue flicking already. 

When they break apart, Fjord sways slightly. “I uh, feel a little dizzy.” 

“The corset, probably.” Molly winks. “Or I’m just that good at kissing.”

Fjord huffs a laugh. “I’m going to sit down. You don’t have to … I mean, I don’t want you to feel … obligated …” Fjord sinks down onto the bed. 

Molly considers him thoughtfully. “I appreciate that.” He hops up onto the bed beside Fjord. “Now, would you like some help?” he looks down pointedly. 

Fjord’s hard, and in the confines of the silk underwear it’s obvious.

Molly is hard too, which makes Fjord feel a surge of pride. 

“Could we, I mean, there’s … I … we could …” Fjord feels his face heating up and tongue tying itself into knots. “Maybe we could help each other out? You know?”

“I think I do. Sort of a, helping hand kind of thing?” Molly smiles. “Some of the people at the circus called it using Mage Hand, even if you didn’t know the spell.” 

Fjord laughs at that. “Accurate, in a weird way. But would you want to?”

“With you, here and now? Yes.” Molly flexes his fingers. 

Fjord lays a hand on Molly’s thigh, easing his way over the silk and stroking a thumb over the outline of Molly’s cock. 

As he does, Molly rubs the heel of his hand up and over Fjord’s erection. He’s gentle, almost teasing, but then he grasps Fjord fully.

Fjord moans and hurries to mirror Molly’s action, taking Molly’s cock in his hand. There’s a ring there, on the end, he can feel it through the silk. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Fjord whispers. 

“Don’t pull on the ring, and I’ll be just fine.” Molly shifts and smiles with a flash of teeth. “More than fine, if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

Fjord slides his hand underneath the teal fabric. He avoids the ring, avoids the curls of hair, and sets a steady pace. Fjord watches Molly for signs of encouragement or displeasure. He’s rewarded with blissful expressions and soft gasps. 

Molly licks his own palm before slipping through the side of Fjord’s undergarment. With no ring to deter him, Molly flicks the head of Fjord’s cock and draws moans and hisses from him with every movement. 

“You’re going to come first, aren’t you?” Molly scrapes his teeth along the side of Fjord’s neck, just under his ear. 

“I … I …” Fjord’s grateful they’re both sitting down already because he knows he’d be swaying on his feet now if he were standing. 

“Let me take care of you, Captain.” Molly strokes his thumb over the head of Fjord’s cock just as he suckles a bite under Fjord’s jawline.

Fjord comes and half collapses against Molly, resting his head on Molly’s shoulder. He’s ruined the silk he knows, but he doesn’t care because it feels so good and Molly is here and Molly’s licking his fingers clean and tasting Fjord.

“Oh god.” Fjord pants. 

“No, just Mollymauk.” Molly laughs. 

Fjord snorts. Then he remembers himself and continues to stroke Molly’s cock. “You want me to step up the pace?”

“Take your time,” Molly’s voice is somewhat strained. “Just don’t leave me in this state.”

“Never.” Fjord promises. “I’m a gentleman.” 

Molly makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat. 

“I want to suck you,” Fjord drawls out the words, grinning as he sees Molly start to shudder. “I want to taste you. I want you to lay me down and fuck me right here, wearing this,” he tugs the laces of the peacock-colored corset. 

Molly cries out and comes, spilling over Fjord’s fingers. Gasping, he topples against Fjord and they both slump onto the bed. 

Fjord runs his left hand through Molly’s sweaty hair. Then he delicately licks the fingers of his right hand clean. The taste isn’t anything unusual, for all those stories of tieflings tasting like exotic spices or forbidden fruits, there’s nothing surprising in the salty aftertaste on Fjord’s tongue. 

“Did you mean that, Captain?” Molly huffs, turning his head to look at Fjord. 

Fjord could take it back. He could say it was something in the heat of the moment, to get Molly off, something he’d remembered from a smutty book, anything really. 

“Every word.” Fjord gulps. Was this too much? 

“Good.” Molly kisses Fjord, then hops up off of the bed. “Would you like me to stay, or go?” He’s already unlacing the corset. “Either way, I need to get out of this. It’s lovely, but not for long-term wearing.”

Fjord thinks of tossing and turning in Avantika’s bed these past nights. He thinks of constantly pulling away from people, from cuddlepiles with Caduceus and Yasha and Molly, from Molly’s flirtations over and over.

“If you’d like to stay, then I’d like to share the bed with you.” Fjord tries to keep the ache from his voice. If Molly doesn’t want to, if he wants to go back to Yasha and Caduceus and snuggle up with them tonight … Fjord has to accept that. He fumbles with his own corset, easing out of the laces. 

Molly sets his corset aside and wriggles out of the underwear. “Of course I’d like to stay.” He crawls back up onto the bed. “I warn you, I run hot at night. I’ll likely kick the covers off.”

“Sounds just fine to me.” Fjord lays a cautious hand over Molly’s back. 

Molly murmurs in contentment and snuggles close. 

Fjord sinks back against pillows. When the lingering smell of Avantika drifts to his nose, he turns his head to the side and buries his face in Molly’s hair instead.


End file.
